LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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Shelf. 






UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



j;:i 15 i88i 




^^POEMSf^^- 



-HT- 



Mrs. Thomas Blackwell. 



We count nur yEars by aur hEart beats, 
By Dur hours of jay, or pain) 

By the dreanis that we drsaui that vanish, 
ilnd never cnme back atfain, 




JAN /rieuv^' 



:b^ 



TOLEDO, O. 

The Toledo Evening Bee, Printers. 

1884. 




They say that thou art happy now, 
That thou canst smile once more ; 

They say the cloud hath left thy brow, 
And all thy grief is o'er. 



I would riot wish thine eye were dim. 
Nor bid thy smile be gone ; 

But thou should'st sometimes think of him 
Whom thou did'st bless alone. 



They say in every glittering dance 
With maiden glee thou art, 

That thou hast still the fairy glance 
Which first did hope impart. 



I would not bid thee leave the throng, 
If thou can'st happy be ; 

I would not bid thee cease the song. 
But think ! oh, think of me. 



— E. B. 



— 4— 

There is a land beyond the tomb, 

Where we may meet again : 
And in that land there is no gloom. 

No sorrow and no pain. 
For thou wert as a sunbeam's light 

Across my pathway thrown ; 
That made my days so sweetly bright. 

'Tis darkness now that thou'rt gone. 



I saw thine eyelids close in death, 

I marked thy cheek grow pale, 
And strove to catch thy parting breath, 

When that sweet breath should fail. 
I placed thy hands across thy breast, 

I kissed thy cold, pale brow ; 
I laid thee in thy home of rest, 

And thou art happy now. 



Away, away from this lonely earth, 

Where thou dost a stranger roam : 

This is the land of the body's birth. 
Above is the spirit's home ! 



Beyond the range of the deep blue skies 
Beyond the glorious sun ; 

Boundless, and bright, and peaceful lie? 
Thy home when thy race is run. 



Listen ! Heavenly notes are calling 
Thee to fly from this cold sphere : 

Death's deep sleep is o'er thee falling, 
Wherefore dost thou linger here ? 



— 5— 

There may be in thy bosorii meeting. 

Lingering thoughts of those loved best ; 

Earth, and ail its joys are fleeting, 
Haste thee to thy promised rest. 

Away: though parting be earth's dark doom, 
And death speaks of fear and pain ; 

Our bodies may rest in the silent tomb, 
Our spirits shall meet again. 



" Bunclocly." 

There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet 

As that where the "Slaney" and soft "Clody" meet. 

Oh ! talk not of vales in the east or the west. 

Where the bright thoughts of poets so fondly may rest. 

For should all their beauties together combine, 

They could not be equal ••Bundody" to thine. 

I climb in my gladness the wild mountain's brow, 

! could there be any so beauteous as thou ? 

1 have stood on thy hills, in the morning's rich ylow 
Has shed its bright beamings on all things below; 

1 have seen thee in noonday's most glorious hour 

Decked in the snow storm, and summer's bright flower. 

I have seen the dark thunder-cloud shadowing o'er, 

Yet scarce made thy beauty less sweet than before. 

I have seen the bright "bow," when the storm scrowled above, 

Encircle thy vale with its promise of love ; 

I have seen thee when hope, with her flattering train, 

Came kindly to brighten my pathway of pain ; 

When dark grief had gathered its heaviest cloud, 

The dream of a moment forever to shroud ; 

In life's brightest joy, and in deadhest ill. 

In each one thou seemest more beautiful still 1 



— 6— 

How blest could I be in thy lowliest home, 
Content in thy sweet shades forever to roam ; 
Should the dream of my happiness quickly be past, 
Bright visions of hope be by death overcast, 
Then bury me deep in the churchyard above, 
And let my heart rest in the home of its love, — 
Where each Sabbath morn, as it quickly comes round, 
Shall mark a soft step, on that sweet, hallowed ground, 
Of one who has loved me alive ; and, when dead, 
Will linger and weep o'er my last narrow bed. 
And, if in my wandering through life's chequered way, 
To the home of my fathers my footsteps should stra,y, 
Yet deep in my heart thy sweet image shall dwell. 
Thy beauty more dear when I bid thee farewell. 



Bunclodj 
Ireland. 



Sickness hath o'er thy pillow 

Scattered its bitterest pangs. 
Thy soul o'er Jordan's billow, 

Waiting its summons hangs. 
Death's dark wing is waving 

Over thy spirit now. 
The tear drop thy lid is laving. 

Anguish is on thy brow. 
Leave then thy earthly dwelling, 

Haste thee from all below ; 
There deep notes of praise are swelling 

The hymns as they sweetly flow. 
Bright raiment there awaits thee. 

A crown of unfading gold, » 
Tree Mercy there elates thee. 

High in the Savior's fold. 
Then weep not at leaving us, 

We'll not long mourn for thee, 
We shall meet 

Again in Eternity. 



— 7— 



So far above my sphere art thou, 

So bright a course is thine ; 
I dare not gaze upon thee now / 

And hope thou may'st be mine I 
I may not press thee to my heart, 

And kiss thy blushing check ; 
But silent in my heart must rest 

The love I dare not speak. 
When'er I meet thy soft mild eye, 

So gently raised to mine ; 
I feel, but oh ! how hopelessly, 

How deep a love is thine. 
I must not speak, thou would'st disdain 

My prayer e'er yet begun; 
And then I might not look again 

On thee, ray precious one. 
But I may stand, e'en far apart, 

And gaze upon thee there; 
Till deeply graven on my heart 

Is thy loved form so fair. 
And when I bend my knee in prayer, 

Before the Eternal Throne ; 
Then I may bring thy welfare there 

And blend it with my own. 
And when I hear that thou art gone, 

That even thou hast died ; 
I'll seek thee, whom I loved alone, 

And lay me by thy side. 
When thou art dead, none can forbid 

The tear that now will flow ; 
Then I may speak the love I hid 

When thou wert here below. 



— 8— 

To M. P. 



When will you think of me, dearest ? 
When will you think of me ? 

When the sun has set, and the day is gone, 
When the night and its gloom is coming on, 
When the stars are dark in the midnight sky. 
When tempests howl and winds are high, 
Then think of me. 

When the stars are bright, and the moon's pale beam 
Lights up the ocean with fitful gleam ; 
When evening is come, and with sadden'd brow. 
Thou think'st of the days that are passing now. 
Then think of me. 



When thy heart is sad, and thy spirit lone, 
And every joy seems dead and gone ; 
When eich friend is fled, thou counted'st true, 
When griefs are many and comforts few. 
Then think of me. 



When the body is sick with health's decay. 
And each friendly hand is far away ; 
Then think of me, who should have been 
Thy changeless friend through every scene. 
Then think of me. 

(3n the Sabbath day, in the sacred aisle 
Of that village church, then rest awhile, — 
And as thou breath'st thy fervent prayer, 
Oh ! let my name be mingled there. 
Thus think of me ! 



Remember me in every hour, 
In summer's smile, in wintry shower. 
In joy, or grief, on land, at sea. 
At home, abroad, where'er it be. 
Remember me ! 



When I am dead, and my soul shall be 
Pining no more to look on thee ; 
Then think of me, as thou would'st of one, 
For whom it is well to be dead and gone. 
Thus think of- me ! 



Farewell. 



Farewell ! we may not meet again, 

Another's home must hold thee now ; 
Other hearts around thee twine, 

Other lips will press thy brow. 
Farewell ! and may'st thou happy be, 

May all thy life be glad and fair, 
Yet ODce a day, oh I think of me. 

It is the hour of evening prayer. 

Then, as thy heart is softened by 

The shades of eve, that round thee fall. 
E'en as the hallowed moments fly. 

The image of thy friend recall. 
Though distant, yet in converse sweet, 

Each heart, the others griefs may share: 
Before the Throne of Mercy meet. 

And mingle in our evening prayer. 



Schoolmates. 



Oh ! blame me not, if I am weeping 

O'er that stone moss-grown and graj% 

For beneath it those are sleeping, 

Well beloved in childhood's day. 



Fair the form that rest beneath it. 

Fairer spirit once dwelt there ; 
Sweet the smile, as flower that wreath it. 

Twined by those who held them dear. 

Cold and dark their place of rest, 

And wet with many a wintry shower ; 

And gently o'er their lifeless breast. 

Has waved full many a sweet spring flower- 



O'er them storms and clouds may gather, 
They caHnot break their sweet repose 

For though the floweret they may wither, 
Ah: now, they cannot injure those. 

To tell to all that they have perished. 

This tablet marks their lowly bed : 
But what can tell how fondly cherished 

Were the loved, and lovely dead ? 



There they lie, secure from sorrow ; 

There the broken heart lies free ; 
But the dawn of each to-morrow 

Brings no happiness to me. 

Written on two lovely schoolmates— sisters— who are buried 
yard, Cornwall, England. 



I will not say the word " Farewell," 

It breathes too much of blight and sorrow, 

But I will part from thee, this night, 

As we were sure to meet to-morrow. 



I'll kiss thy hand, thy brow, thy cheek, 

And call thee mine, and mine forever ; 

As if we parted here this night, 

To meet at dawn, no more to sever. 

My duty calls me far away, 

I would on earth I ne'er had met thee 
And yet my heart so wayward is, 

I would not, if I could, forget thee. 



Dear Baby. 



Sleep ! dear baby, sleep ! dear baby rest, 

These sheltering arms not long shall hold thee here 
Not long thou'lt slumber on thy mother's breast, 

Then who shall wipe thy lonely mother's tear. 

It speaks of suffering, that pallid cheek. 

Of many a silent hour of infant woe ; 
And the pure lid, so heavy, seems to seek, 

To hide the misery that lurks below. 

Soon on thy tiny grave— the home of death, 

Shall fall the first pure flake of winter snow. 

When that is gone, then shall a fairer wreath 

Of brighter hope, the spring's first floweret blow. 



The silver music of thy gentle voice. 

Will sweeter sound amid the hymns above ; 

Should not thy 'reaved mother then rejoice, 

To know thee safe within that home of love ? 



Then go, dear child ! nor suffer longer here ! 

Thy God hath called thee ! go ! I will not weep : 
His soothing care will dry the struggling tear, ' 

And gently hush each murmuring thought to sleep. 



Oh [ speak not of the dead I the heart may love 

To linger still within their narrow home. 

And to recall each look, each word, each smile, 

To dwell upon the mem'ry of the past 

But it loves not that stranger tongues should speak 

That much loved name ! that stranger hands should ope 

Again the wound, that time had nearly healed. 

The brow may wear a smile, the lip may speak 

E'en words of gladness and the giddy world 

Ne'er know that aught but happiness is there; 

But the sole whisper of that one small word 

May wake a pang within the saddened heart 

The thoughtless one knows not, and could not cure. 



To E. W. 



One hour with thee is sweeter far 
Than all the fleeting day beside ; 

It is the far off gentle star, 

My feet through all the rest to guide. 



—13— 

One hour with thee 1 Its mem'ry stays 
Within my heart with tend'rest care, 

[ts brightness gilds the darkest days, 

And makes e en hours of sorrow fair. 



One hour with thee I my heart goes on 
Yearning to meet the promised joy ; 

Yet shrinks with pain to dwell upon 

The thought, fimc iinist this hour destroy, 

'Tis only in this hour I live : 

The others only vainly flee ; 
Oh ! for all this world could give, 

I would not miss this hour tvith thee! 



High hill, and wooded valley 

Within green Erin's isle, 
Are smiling in their beauty. 

But heed not now their smile. 
For round my native island 

More blue the waters play ; 
My spirit finds no shelter here, 

Come, come away. 



All the friends who love me. 

Oh ! no, they are not here ; 
And they are weeping for me. 

With many a bitter tear. 
Each zephyr breathing o'er me. 

In sadness seems to say, 
As from well known voices, 

Come, come awav- 



14- 



There is a flood, a living flood, 

Of a dying Savior's blood; 

Oh ! could there be a stream so fair, 

And may I wash my garments there ? 

There is a harp, a harp of gold. 

But not made of mortal mould ; 

Strung for all eternity, 

And is that harp now strung for me ? 

There is a song of joy and praise, 

Adoring the Almighty's ways ; 

Each to each his love declares, 

And may I join my voice with theirs ? 

There is a home, a blessed home, 

Whence the redeemed ne'er may roam 

Its joys no human tongue can tell, 

And may I there forever dwell ? 

There is a crown prepared on high, 

For those who in the Lord shall die ; 

Oh ! it is glorious, bright and free, 

And is that crown prepared for me ? 



To My Dear Brother, Denis. 



Oh ! come, my brother, come, thy Savior now 
Still waits to set His seal upon thy brow ; 
Still waits to make thee feel, thy sins forgiven. 
To love thee here, and welcome thee to Heaven. 

Oh 1 come, my brother, come ! and bow with me 
Before the Savior's Cross on lowly knee ; 
See, from His wounded side, that stream of blood, 
Oh ! wash thy guilty soul in that pure flood. 



— 15— 

Oh 1 hear the gentle voice of Him who gave 
His life a ransom, thee, even thee to save ; 
Oh ! hear His voice, and weep with anguish here, 
For the "Most High" still loves the sinner's tear, 

*'Come unto me, thou lost and wearied one, 
Who from the fold of God hath widely gone ; 
Take my light yoke, and I will give thee rest, 
T.ove me on earth, and then in Heaven be blest." 

Oh 1 could'st hear those words, and not believe ? 
Nor to thy heart so kind a friend receive? 
Nor long to enter those far realms so bright, 
Where Jesus ever lives, the Life, the Light ? 

This earth contains for us no home of love, 
Wilt thou not meet me in that world above ? 
Where there is neither sorrow, death, nor pain. 
Nor thou, beloved, and I shall part again ! 

Then if thou lovest me, thyself, thy soul. 
Oh ! come to Jesus, He will make the whole ; 
Oh ! hnger not, or it may be too late, 
And thou ne'er enter the Celestial Gate. 

If there be grief in Heaven, it would be this. 

To enter without thee that home of bliss ; 

To taste its endless joys, alone, alone, 

And thou, my brother, whither wert thou gone ? 

Then flee to Christ, thou shalt not flee in vain. 

His blood can cleanse the deepest earthly stain ; 

That when thou'rt wrapped within the grave's deep sleep, 

And all thy sorrowing friends around thee weep, 

/ may rejoice in the assurance fair, 

That when Lm summoned "Home," I'll meet thee there. 



— 16 — 

To M. P. 



Forget me not, forget me not. 

Still let my memory be, 
In joy or woe, whate'er thy lot, 

Welcome and dear to thee. 

Remember me, when morning shineth. 

Brightly round thy way ; 
Remember me when day declineth, 

With its soft parting ray. 

Remember me when prayer ascendeth 

In the calm house of God; 
Remember me when peace descendeth. 

To glad thine onward road. 

When every joy and peace are shading 

Thy Hfe with promise fair, 
And its rankling cares are fading, 

Then wish that I were there. 

Should the friends that now caress thee, 
Forsake, when sorrows lour ; 

Think of me whose love could bless thee, 
E'en in thy darkest hour. 

Fare the well ! they cannot sever 
My heart's best love from thee ; 

And though they part us here forever. 
Yet still remember me ! 



I saw two beings stand 
Within a village church, — one in the pride of manly beauty, 
One, a sweet girl, just blushing into womanhood. 
They stood near, yet too far apart ; far, for he noted not 



— 17— 

The blush that mantled on her fair young cheek, 

When he approached — too near. For long she gazed, 

Till deep within her heart lay his dear image — 

Cradled there forever ! Oh ! woman ! Why does she love 

So fondly and so well ? But still he saw her not, 

Or seeing did not heed. How could he guess the sorrow 

That was stealing o'er that fair spirit ? At length 

The hour came when they must part — he, a wanderer 

Oer the far blue wave. She, to the cold routine of daily duty. 

I saw her look on him for the last time — with parted lips 

And fast flowing tear, she looked on him she neer 

Might see again, but whom she loved so well. 

Again I saw them — hand locked in hand^ — beneath 

The moon's pale beam. They had met and loved. 

As human beings never love, but once. Now they were parting. 

For he was bound to India's burning strand. How long he knew not; 

But it might be for many years. He bound her by no vow. 

For he might die and she ne'er know it — 

And he would not keep that loving earnest heart 

In dire suspense, perhaps, her whole life long. 

So he bound her by no promise ; but, as he pressed 

Her trembling heart to his, the words 

"I'll always love you, dearest," murmured in her ear. 

And years, long years, went by and still he came not, 

And the thought that he was dead, or far, far worse, 

That he had found a lovelier, wealthier bride. 

Would cross her brain, and crush her sorrowing spirit. 

And her fair cheek grew wan, and scarce you'd know 

The sweet young girl that he had wooed and won. 

And once again I saw her. 
She stood beside an altar — the orange wreath 
And the far-flowing veil told she was a bride. 
What did she there ? Her heart was far away 
Upon the bounding wave. And as she spoke 
The words of wedded life, and held her small fair hand 



Ta have a golden circlet placed ou it, 

Her thoughts went forth — back to the village church 

And the manly form of him she had loved so well. 

So she was wedded, and the unconscious world 

Thought her very blest. And so in truth she might have been 

But for that otie corroding grief — for, him she chose 

Was in all things worthy of her love. 

And fair young children grew around her path, 

And years rolled on — ^and then she sought a sea-side dwelling. 

For she thought some distant ship might tidings bring of him : 

But still he came not. 

And she found sorrow and poverty, and had to leave 

Her home and sea-side dwelling and to rove 

A stranger in a foreign land. 

A tall and stately ship went forth to wend its way 

Across the blue Atlantic, and on her deck 

I saw two I had seen before. Both were altered — 

Storms and sunny climes had swarthed his cheek ; 

She had lost her beauty, but around her still 

Hung that same sweet charm that had won 

So many to her side — the small white hand 

And that same golden circlet. She saw and knew him,. 

And, with fierce struggle, brought back the blood 

That curdled at her heart, or she had died ! 

What could she do ? She could not tear with sudden wrench 

Out from her heart the love so interwoven with her life. 

She was not sinful — she had striven long against her love. 

She saw him ! What now to her was her far western home 

Or hope of coming wealth ? He could not share it with her, 

For she was bound by sacred ties to others. 

For many an hour he watched her changing cheek 

And downcast tearful eye. Nor could he well recall 

Where he had seen that face. It was the same, 

Yet not the same ! At length the truth burst on him, 

And he knew the fair and gentle girl he had loved 

So long before \ 



—19— 

At length the gallant ship has won her way 

Across the stormy ocean. But wilder and more deep 

Came the o'erwhelmning thought that they must part once more. 

Outward she was calm. For one short month 

She had seen him near her, and secretly had loved 

With that unfading love, which only women feels. 

And now they part forever ! Oh I hour of unutterable anguish. 

They part — he, to his island home and that sweet village church, 

And other hearts that love him — but not as she loves ; 

She, to the far west to form a home, a dwelling 

For her children. For what has she to do with home ? 

He is not there, and can home be now where he is not ? 

They parted with the same words still murmuring in her ear. 

From lips still dear, so dear, "Fll always love you, dearest." 

"In all sad words in tongue or pen, 

The saddest are these, // might have been." 



Cling not to earthly hearts, for I 

Can tell how light and vain 
Is every passing joy that flees 

And never comes again ; 
Awhile they flit across our path, 

To light us on our way. 
But quickly in the darkness then 

Is sunk their cheering ray. 

Cling not thou to earthly hearts — 

Trust not their flattering smile, 
It seems so fond, so pure, so sweet. 

But only for awhile ; 
When sorrow comes they quickly turn. 

Then they can love no more — 
Then their smile is far more cold 

Than it was bright before. 



The spirit that has loved too well, 

Is sure to be deceived ; 
Then it must sadly mourn alone 

The dream that it believed. 
The veil of bliss that o'er it hung, 

Is rudely torn away ; 
And shows how slight, how hopeless is 

The friendship of a day. 



The fairest one — the noblest, best, 

The one we cherish most, 
Is always in this cold, bleak world, 

The one that must be lost. 
For death comes steahng on, and makes 

That one beloved his own; 
Then quickly cuts him off from earth. 

And we are left alone. 

'Twas but to-day they gaily breathe 

With us the perfumed air ; 
Before to-morrow's noon we wreath 

The fairest floweret there, 
To deck the silent, lonely tomb, 

Where they are laid to rest ; 
The winding-sheet their only garb^ 

The worm their only guest. 

The bird that sweetly sings at eve. 

The bough that hangs on high, 
The sweetest floweret on earth, 

Blooms brightest but to die I 
The form we love, the eye that beams 

On us with fondest ray, 
Only delights for a while, 

And then is past away 1 



Oh ! then, love nothing on this earth, 

Fix not your hearts below ; 
Deem not life's gayest moments dear, 

All brightly though they flow. 
For all that we hold dearest here — 

The beauteous and the gay, 
May only bless a few short years, 

And then they're caught away. 



To Lady Flora Hastings. 

Yes, rest thee now, thy heart was broken, 

By earth's cold frown ; 
The word of scorn, the world hath spoken. 

Soon bore thee down. 

Thy once bright eye, now dim with weeping 

O'er thy dark doom ; 
Is peacefully and calmly sleeping, 

In the lone tomb. 

Thy heart, too warm for earth's deceiving. 

Too quickly won, 
Shall find no cloud o'er its believing, 

Where thou art gone. 

Thy spirit, all to bright for sorrow, 

Could not rest here, 
But hastened on that to-morrow. 

Where there's no tear. 

This world had no heart to render 

Back thy pure love ; 
A soul like thine, so warm and tender, 

Should dwell above. 



Earth's confines had no home to hold thee. 

Thou wert loo fair ; 
Thy Savior hath His own enrolled thee, 

Then rest thee there. 



Written when Queen Victoria was Crowned. 



God bless our noble Queen ! 
By ministering hands unseen, 

God bless the Queen ! 
None is so loved as thou, 
That crown that decks thy brow. 
Long may it grace as now, 

Our youthful Queen. 

May each gentle wind that breathes. 
Bring distant victory's wreaths, 

Won from her foes ; 
May health and pleasure beam, 
Through life's fitful dream, 
With an unchanging gleam. 

Round England's Rose. 

Thy young days sweetly fly. 
May age glide gently by. 

Calm and serene ! 
When in death's slumber deep, 
Thy lovely form shall sleep, 
May all hearts sadly weep 

Their much loved Queen : 



— 23— 

Life's cup is fraught with care, 
Though a royal crown we wear, 

And bright it seem. 
But may that solemn hour, 
Transplant to sweeter bower. 
Proud Britain's fairest flower, 

Our Island Queen ! 



Oh I Lord, our God, be Thou our strength, 
Teach us thy love, its breadth and length ; 
Write in our hearts thy glorious Word, 
By thine own blessed Spirit, Lord. 
Be thou our Guide, through life's dark way, 
To love Thee through an endless day ! 
Let us be gathered with thine own, 
Around Thy bright eternal throne. 
Let none be wanting in the throngs 
That swell the high immortal songs 
Of praise, that through Thy temple flow, 
Of all we've loved and lost below. 



The way is dark, be Thou our guide, 
Our hearts are faint, our footsteps slide ; 
Our spirits sink with doubt and fear, 
Keep us, our God, for foes are near. 
Let us not fall till we shall stand, 
Safe in that happy, far off land. 
When the cold stream of death shall lay 
The only barrier in the way. 
That leads us to our Father's home, 
Do Thou, oh ! blesssed Jesus, come 
To cheer us in that dark, dark road, 
Till we awake in Thine abode. 



■24- 



Winter's Evening. 



ON REING ASKED IF I LOVED THE WINTER S EVENING. 



The winter's eve ! oh ! why should it be dear? 

Why should its blazing fire and kindred mirth, 

Its burst of laughter and its words of love, 

Wake joy in me ? For, oh ! 'tis then the dream 

Of other days cloud o'er the happy scene, 

And takes my spirit back to long past hours, 

When round my father's hearth we sat a group 

Of careless ones 1 No thought of the sad hour 

That hurried on — threw its dark spell on us. 

It came ! and one by one, we left that home ; 

Some to the grave, and some to wander far 

Through the lone wilderness of this sad world ! 

And one almost as treasured in my heart, 

Cheered for a little while my darken'd path. 

He too sickened, and ere the bitter tear 

Wept for that first deep pang was dried, the grave 

Had claimed its own. And now a sweet bright dream 

Of other days comes o'er my spirit, — 

Forms that once I loved to gaze on, still seem near, 

Sweet voices that were music to my soul, 

Still speak to me ! But the deep happiness 

Of that dream some strange voice breaks, and I start 

And wake to the sad certainty that all 

Around me are not mine 1 That I have none 

In all that gay young group to feel with me, 

Or tell me I am dear ! And the bright scene 

But saddens me! Then ask me not again, 

If mid the joys of this cold world, I love 

The cheerful Winter's Eve. 



—25— 

To a Friend. 



May that fair tree of God's, the Tree of Life, 

That stands within God's Paradise, be thine ; 

May it bloom round thee 'mid the world's deep strife, 
And round thy path to endless years entwine. 

Oh ! be thou faithful even unto death, 

Amid temptation, sorrow, joy and pain ; 

Love thou the Lord e'en with thy latest breath, 
And thou a crown of endless life shalt gain. 

The "Hidden Manna" and the "New White Stone," 
The "Secret of the Lord" the world knows not; 

The glorious name which no man yet hath known, 
O'er come by faith, and they shall be thy lot. 

May the "White robe of Righteousness'' be thine, 
Thy Savior wrought for thee while here below ; 

Bright in the "Book of Life" may thy name shine, 
Mingled with Angel's songs thy praises flow. 

May'st thou sit down with Christ upon His throne. 
Having o'er come the world — its sin and care ; 

Before His Father, may thy Savior own 

Thy name, and mine, and may I meet thee there. 



Long years have passed since I stood beside 
A rapid river's dancing tide, 
And the glorious rays' of the summer's sun 
Beamed brightly there as the day passed on. 
And all around looked so calm and fair, 
As if no sorrow could e'er rest there. 
And the painted butterfly's golden wing 
Seemed to rejoice in day's early spring. 



— 26— 

A tiny skiff with its snowy sail, 

Came slowly on in the gentle gale ; 

And sound of merriment reached my ear^ 

Of youthful voices, joyous and clear, 

As life had for them no storm nor cloud, 

No sorrow to darken, no deep grief to shroud. 

Just then a shadow came over the scene, 

I turned, and a cloud lay stretched between 

The sun and the gladness it late shone on. 

Its calmness and beauty alike were gone, 

I heard the deep moan of the swelling gale, 

I saw the white wave and the shattered sail, 

I heard the wild cry of distress in vain, 

It fell on my ear, but it came not again. 

It is thus with the dream of our earliest day, 

It flits round our path with its golden ray ; 

It tells us of joys for years to come, 

Fearless alike of dark cloud and storm ; 

It bids us forget that sorrow and care 

Must each be our lot while we sojourn here. 

And strews all our pathway with sunshine and joys. 

Which each hastening year, as it comes, destroys. 

And leaves us vainly to weep, I deem. 

O'er the shattered remains of that early dream. 



To Wallace Eyster. 

Many happy birthdays, to my dear little boy, 
May each succeeding birthday bring the brighter joy ; 
May thy life be long and happy — from every sorrow free — 
Onward and upward to a glad eternity. 1882. 



And shall I say the word "Farewell," 
And shall I bid thee go forever ? 

And shall I by one fatal word, 

The ties of two fond hearts thus sever ? 



•27- 



Yes 1 think on me as of the dead. 

As of one whose smile delighted ; 

But whose life time's ruthless hand 

Hath too soon, too early blighted. 

Forget me not in after life, 

When other kindly ties have bound thee, 
Think the unfading love of her, 

Thou leavest now, is still around thee .' 



Why do I keep this faded flower ? 
Because its perfume still has power 
To bring to me that happy hour, 

When first I called it mine ; 
So dear the voice that bid me take 
This litde flower, and for his sake 
Wear it near my heart, and make 

Two lives more brightly shine. 

And when fate had bid us part, 

And sorrow crushed each loving heart, 

I kept my faded flower ; 
It was a sacred thing to me, 
An ever treasured memory 
Of happiness that was to be, 

But lost in an evil hour, April 21, "83. 



To a very Dear Friend who was Sick, 

Thou art not forgotten, thy memory still 
One soul's deep recess of affection may fill, 
Thy welfare is mingled in morn's early prayer, 
When evening is closing, thine image is there. 
Within and around me thy form is imprest, 
When others are glad, may thou also be blest. 



— 28— 

But I know that thy spirit is sorrowful now, 

And care hath encircled her wreath round thy brow — 

But thou art alone the love of one heart, 

Still lingers around thee wherever thou art. 

Thou knowest that she, whom thou valuest most. 

Without thee is desolate, lonely and lost, 

And would rather be watching thy sick bed beside. 

Than be in the scenes of this world's lofty pride. 

And speaking with thee of the home that we love, 

Which is boundless and bright in the heavens above. 

Then bend thee in faith, though severe be the rod, 

Thou said'st thou could'st trust in the hand of thy God 

To guide and direct thee. Oh ! trust in Him still. 

This correction is sent us in mercy, not ill. 

Then be not repining, though dark be the cloud 

That seems at this moment thy prospects to shroud, 

When the mandate is spoken those griefs to destroy. 

The deeper, the purer will then be our joy ; 

The hopes thou hast cherished, thou need'st not forego, 

Those that loved thee in joy, have still loved thee in woe. 

And our God, who has guided these few weeks of pain, 

Will bless us apart, and unite us again. 



This is the greatest sorrow 

That e'er o'er the spirit fell, 

The hope that is lost and blighted. 

In a heart that has loved too well. 

There is a tear more bitter 

Than that o'er the lost we shed ; 
'Tis o'er a friendship valued, 

When that friendship now has fled. 

There is a cloud far deeper. 

Than e'er the clear noonday shades : 
'Tis that which the spirit darkens, 

When its fairest prospect fades. 



■29- 



There is a time more lonely, 

Than that in the desert past. 

When the hope we most fondly cherished, 
Has left us to mourn at last. 

Then the sad heart will linger, 

O'er past hours, bright and gay ; 

But they have faded in darkness, 

There sunshine has passed away. 



Oh ! let the giddy world ne'er know 

This torrent of o'erwhelming feeling; 

For days of grief and nights of woe. 

Already o'er my pathway are stealing. 

There are some feelings, wild and deep, 

That few can know ; none comprehend • 

That never till the hearts deep sleep, 
Can time alleviate nor end. 

Then let not careless lips e'er tell 

How I have erred in loving thee ; 

But when I say the word farewell, 
Still let my error hidden be. 

I could not crush the deep, deep love 
Creeping o'er my heart forever ; 

If sin, 'tis registered above, 

But let the world condemn me never. 

For guiltless as a litde child, 

Yet wild as stormy wave of ocean ; 

Is this heart's love, so deep, so wild. 
Is every throb of its emotion. 

Be faithful then, and never let 

My name be breathed by those who never 
Loved as I love, and who forget 

We shall be parted soon forever ! 



-30— 

Now, mother, dear, kiss me " good-night, " 

For I am going far away ; 
I'm going to the land of dreams. 

And sha'nt be back till break of day. 

— FRANK ELACKWELL, 8 vears old. 



Afraid to Die. 



ON BEING ASKED 'WAS I AFRAID TO DIE. 

Are you not afraid to die ? Oh I no. 
I have walked with God for many years hand in hand, 
As friend walks with friend. Never Jong has God been 
Absent from my thought, I have praised Him for 
The little insect, the bright flowers, the green trees, the lofty 

mountains, 
The glorious stars, the rainbow -'bended by His hand," 
Every hour have I held converse with Him on His throne above, 
And He hath answered by a whisper in my heart 1 
He has given me food and raiment, health, and this fair world. 
And brought me through its devious paths, thus far, in safety, 
And when He sends His angel, saying -'Come." I know my home 

is ready 
In that far off land, my heart hath often pictured, 
And though, perhaps, the least of all His children, I shall see Him 
And rest within His sheltering love forever. 

1883. 
« ♦ » 

Fare thee well ! but not forever. 

My heart would sink with bitt'rest pain. 
Did I think one hour that never 

I should look on thee again. 

There are words of deeper sorrow, 

Than those we speak above our dead : 

And the gentlest heart shall borrow 
Darker grief for hope that's fled. 



—31 — 

Fare thee well ! I may not love thee, 
But within my heart of hearts 

Dwells a memory that shall prove me 
Constant still, till life departs. 

Wilt thou sometimes in thy dreaming. 

Think oi that which "might have been, 

Of the joys that once were beaming, 
Of the once too blissful scene ? 

Wilt thou think how I have loved thee, 
How my life must lonely be ? 

Every silent hour filled with thee, 
Treasured memories of thee ! 

Oh ! could I learn to love thee less, 
Nor with tears remember thee ; 

Time cannot teach forgetfulness, 

Nor turn my weary thought from thee. 



I am all alone ! I am so lonely here — 
Will it be so in Heaven when I get there ? 
Among the countless thousands gathered there, 
Will there be one to tell me I am dear ? 

As in the church, shall I stand all alone. 
Unseen, unhonored, sorry, and unknown ? 
Will no one whisper to me words of cheer, 
No kind voice tell me I am welcome there ? 

Within the inner circles near God's Throne, 
Within the light to mortals yet unknown ; 
Will only those of wealth and earthly fame. 
Be privileged to praise the Savior's name ? 

While those who through deep poverty have striven. 
Through woe and toil to find their way to heaven ; 
Waiting with patience — faithful to the end. 
Shall they eternity in sadness spend ? 



— 32— 

Must they stand far, far from that radiant throng,. 

Just catch the faintest echo of their song ? 

Shut out by poverty on earth, alone, 

From all the joy they had hoped ta make their own. 

No 1 by the love I bear my Savior here, 
By my heart's throb, my sin-repenting tear ; 
By the deep joy His precious name bestows, 
By the deep peace that from His presence flows. 

By the soft whisper in response to prayer. 
By the sweet hope that keeps me from despair, 
I know my Savior loves me, and His hand 
Shall lead me safely to the "Better Land," 
From loneliness in life ~ by death set free, 
And Christ will come J/imsei/ and welcome me. 



Each day at dawn, a stately boat 
Starts from the "other side," 

Calmly, yet swiftly, it seems to float, 
Bright on the dancing tide ; 

Its sails are purple, scarlet and gold, 

A blood-stained cross on its banner's fold. 

Silent she speeds on her shining way, 
Proud of the freight she bears ; 

And the bright light of Eternal Day, 
Her onward pathway cheers. 

And on her deck is a motely crew. 

From every clime, of every hue. 

To what port tends this stately ship. 
In her gentle power and pride ? 

Why does she make this daily trip. 
Far from the other side ? 

And who is the Pilot standing there. 

So God-like, so surpassing fair ? 



—33- 

It sails each morn from the Heavenly shore, 

To cross the River of Death ; 
Sad, and gloomy, and dark no more. 

Nor fanned by destruction's breath ; 
To gather the souls of those who love 
The Savior and His home above. 

And as He gathers them one by one. 

At eve on Death's lonely shore ; 
They know their work on earth is done, 

That they can die no more. 
Their last sorrow is over, their last tear shed, 
Their last night faded, their last farewell said. 

And "Holy, Holy, Holy," soundeth, 

From myriad tongues on high ; 
Praising Him, whose love aboundeth 

On earth and in the sky. 
And a joyous song goes up from some 
Who know their loved on earth are come, 
As the ship is moored by the Home of God, 
By its faithful Pilot, Christ the Lord I 

^^ May 31, 188, 

To a Dear Friend with a Gift. 

If I were rich, you would not have 

So poor a gift from me ; 
But with every thread is woven in 

A kindly wish for thee. 

Distance or death some day will lie, 

Dark between me and thee ; 
But while my humble gift you keep, 

You will remember me. 

And all I ask in answer, 

Friendship on earth for me ; 
A kindly word, a warm hand clasp, 

Love — in eternity. Sept,, 188;; 



—34— 

To - 

Oh ! had I thought thou could'st have died, 

I had not gone from thee ; 
But I forgot when by thy side, 

That thou could'st mortal be. 

For thou wert as a sunbeam's light 

Across my pathway thrown ; 
That made my life so sweetly bright, 

'Tis darkness now thou'rt gone I 

I sadly thiuk had I been there 

I might have bid the stay ; 
I did not dream a flower so fair, 

So soon could fade away. 

I left thee darling that I might 

Win wealth and home for thee, — 
A home thou would'st have made so bright. 

So sweet and dear to me. 

And now the wild Atlantic wave 

Rolls between thee and me ; 
But still my soul is by thy grave, 

My heart is still with thee. Aug. 15, 18S3. 



'Tis o'er but ever in my heart 
Shall linger thought of thee ; 

The dreams of other days depart, 
I'll remember only thee. 

Farewell I and oh ! may He, whose love 
Around our pathway stays. 

Lead thee and keep thee free from sin. 
In all thy earthly ways. 



—35— 

In midnight gloom, in midday shine. 
My love is near, nor only mine ; 

The love of God be always thine. 
And in his name, farewell] 



Thou art not alone, tho' the vision that played 

Round the dreams of th}' childhood, dark sorrows o'ershade 

Though the sweet voice of music may charm thee no more. 

And but recall scenes that it cannot restore ; 

Though the light of thy spirit is faded and gone, 

And grief overwhelms thee, thou art not alone. 



Though thy spirit is weeping in silence and gloom, 
O'er those best beloved thou hast laid in the tomb ; 
Though the home where they sojourn is narrow and deep, 
And thou can'st not wake them from that chilling sleep, 
Mourn not o'er the dark home in which they are lain. 
Look onward with joy, thou shalt meet them again. 



Oh ! mourn not thy sweet home. Oh ] shed thee no tear 

For the scenes thou hast loved, for thy rest is not here; 

More blest is the home that awaits the above, 

Death cannot enter that region of love ; 

No parting may darken the land of the blest. 

This world hath deep sorrow, but Heaven has rest. 



'There is no spot so lone, whereso'ere thou mayest be. 
Where the hand of thy Savior has not guided thee ; 
There is no tear so bitter in sorrow's dark day, 
Which the hand of thy Savior cannot wipe away ; 
Though no eye can see thee — no ear list to thy moan, 
Thy Savior is with thee, thou art not alone. 



-36- 

Shoiild We Sleep ? 

A question arose while crossing the Alantic Ocean, "if it were right 
to sleep during a storm.'' 



How can it be right for us to sleep, 
When the wild storm is on the deep ? 
When winds are loud and waves are high, 
And the stars are dark in the midnight sky; 
When the sullen sound of the tempest's roar 
Is howling around from shore to shore; 
When the next dash of the 'whelming wave 
May open for us a cold dark grave ; 
When friends are sorrowing at home, 
Mourning for those who ne'er may come, 
And the white foam crowns the billow's crest, 
Oh 1 how can it be right to rest ? 

If the yawning wave should bid us go 

Down to the dark abyss below, 

Should we arouse in scenes of bliss, 

Or waken in worse storm than this ? 

I would not wish such solemn hour 

Should find me wrapped in sleep's dull power; 

Our Lord has bid us wakeful be, 

Preparing for Eternity. 

In sunshine and at ease to watch, 

Lest death too suddenly should snatch 

Our Hfe. Oh ! how much more when death 

May hang upon our next drawn breath ; 

When the next dreadful billows sweep, 

May hurl us to the foaming deep, 

And make us either cursed or blest, 

Oh I how can it be right to rest ? 



—37— 



We count our years by our heart-beats, 
By their hours of joy or pain ; 

By the dreams we dream, which vanish 
And never come back again. 



Dear Frankie. 



Sept., 1883. 



A little child of three years old 

Stood by its mother's knee, 
His eyes were blue, his hair was gold, 

The gold of infancy. 

That mother always kind and mild 

Had spoken one harsh word, 
And the grief known only to a child, 

Its little bosom stirred. 

He lisped amid the heavy sobs 

He strove in vain to smother ; 
*'Why do 00 peak so coss to me 

I have no other mother !" 

Oh ! bitter tears of deep remorse 

The mother shed that day ; 
But the heart ache caused by those sad words, 

No tears could wash away. 

The child is gone from its mother's clasp 

For many a weary day, 
But deep within the mother's heart 

That sad reproach still stays. 

Oct. 30, 1883. 



-3S- 

"AU Alone; 



A timid gentle knock one day 
Was heard at Heaven's gate ; 

Like one who feared to be turned away. 
Or one who had come too late. 

An Angel hastened out to see 

Who had so softly come ; 
Who sought to gain admittance 

Into the Heavenly Home. 

A woman stood with clasping hands 

And softly falling tear ; 
"I was so poor on earth she said, 

I scarce dared venture here." 

I come from God's green beauteous earth, 
I come from birds and flowers ; 

Oh ! could there ever be a land 
More beautiful than ours ? 

I come from friends and children dear, 

Severed from all I love ; 
But they told me I should find them 

Some day in this home above. 

One, who had gained an entrance there, 

A day or two before ; 
Felt the glad echo in his heart, 

Of a voice he had heard before. 

He had loved her in that other world, 

But never spoke his love ; 
For in point of wealth and dwelling. 

He had been far above. 



—39— 

The Angel turned and saw him stand 
Trembling with joy, and fear ; 

■"You come from the same place" he said, 
"Say ! did you know her there?" 

Oh ! yes, I think I've seen her there, 
Her name I have not known ; 

-For she lived far from the ^'beau monde,' 
In an alley all alone. 

I guess she v/orshipped sometimes in 
The temple where I served ; 

But when I saw her coming in 
I would be quite uHnerved, 

For how, before my high toned friends. 
How could I dare to own, 

That I knew any one that lived 
In an alley all alone ? " 

"I cannot plead my righteousness. 
For I have none," she said, 

^'But in my Savior's footsteps 
I daily strove to tread. 

I could not give much money, 

For I was very poor ; 
But I have never turned away 

One poorer from my door. 

*'To do to others as I would 
That they should do to me, 

I always made from childhood up 
My rule in life to be. 

"I cared for insects, and for birds, 

And every living thing ; 
Because they all belonged to Him, 

Our common Heavenly King. 



— 40— 

"That when God's "Book of Life" were ope 

That I might read my name, 
Cleansed in my Savior's precious blood 

From every earthly stain " 

She spoke no more. A a gentle Hand 

Clasped hers in kindly love ; 
"Welcome," He said, I welcome thee 

To My bright home above." 

He quickly took her far away 

From that proud worldly one. 
Who scorned this friend on earth, who lived 

In an alley all alone. 

Oct. 30, 1883. 

II — ■ 

On the Death of Mrs, Plummer. 

Amid the myriad sleepers on that starry night was one 

Whom God loved well, and in the .>,tillness of the night, 

Adown the shining path that leads from Heaven to earth, 

A message came to her. 

An angel gently touched her. saying "Come, thy God 

Hath need of thee ! There is one wanting in the bright circle 

Round God's Throne, and thou art called to fill that holy place. 

Stay not to bid farewell to those thou lov'st, lest their tears 

Should make thee loth to leave them 1 They, too, shall one day 

Find their way to Heaven, and thou shalt greet them there." 

She had always done the work God bade her do. 

Had always trod the path God bade her go, had ever known 

That he judged best and wisely. So she calmly rose 

And went up the ever brightning way — up to her heavenly home. 

And we have lost her ! But the saints in heaven have gained 

What we have lost I 

We weep for her, and miss her, but our tears are vain. 

We know it matters little in what day or hour. 

The loved of God shall sleep! For them the less of this dark world 

The more of Heaven ; the briefer life, the earlier immortality. 

Dec. I, 1883. 



—41— 

To a Friend. 



WRITTEN ON A BLANK IN A NEW YEAR S PICTURE. 



Maiden, why are you standing there ? 
With dark brown eye, and golden hair ; 
What are the words of hope or cheer 
You wish to utter ? Say them, dear ! 

I wait to wish the bright New Year, 
May find your bosom free from care ; 
That happiness and Love Divine, 
May through its fleeting moments shine. 

May joys be many — sorrows few. 

May all your friends be kind and true; 

Be all your prospects bright and fair, 

Brighter with every glad new year] 1884. 



To a Dear Friend, now dead. 

Best loved of earth, through my life's lonely way, 
Guiding my spirit on, hope's one bright ray, 
Leading my footsteps on to perfect day. 

One day with thee ; 
Through all my life, thy love was all my own, 
Above all other ties, so brightly shone, 
That one soft beacon light, leading me on, 

Nearer to thee ! 

To that blest hour, when I should see again 
The face my heart so cherished, noiv^ and then 
To hear the voice I loved, whose kindly strain 

Is hushed forever 1 
Those precious hopes I treasured, now but seem 
The bright creation of a vanished dream, 
Dearer in memory \ We did not deem 

Our lives could sever .' 



— 42 — 

The ring thou gavest me so long ago, 

Graven with thy dear name, when hope's bright bow 

Gladdened our pathway, ere the bitter woe 

Of parting came ! 
Is still upon my finger, where thine own 
Placed it with tender care, and in loving tone 
Bid me still wear it for thy sake alone. 

For thy dear name. 

The winged thoughts that fled to thee each hour, 
The prayer for thee to Heaven's protecting power, 
The bitter tear, shed o'er a faded flower, 

Now tell my sorrow. 
Across the bright ocean, thou did'st love so well, 
Its lonely murmurings, thy ceaseless knell 
To thee, beloved I I breathe a short farewell, 

Till Heaven's morrow. Jan, 23, 1884. 



To a Lost Friend. 

I little thought when last I came to see thee, 
In the quiet hour of the evening chime, 

That in kind friendship's clasp our hands would linger 
For the last time ' 

I did not dream that Httle hour of gladness, 
I spent so seldom, listening to thee, 

Could, through the adverse influence of others, 
Be lost to me ! 

That the kind words to cheer my weary spirit. 

Guiding my heart toward the Heavenly shore : 

I now shall wait in vain to hear them spoken, 
For evermore ! 

Others have thrown a shadow o'er our friendship, 
Darkening the few short hours of joy I knew ; 

A quick, keen heart throb, telling me I'm ever 
Parted from you ! 



—43— 

And when the moment came that I must leave thee, 
I clasped thy hand, when rang the evening chime : 

And ling'ring still, I said ''good-bye" so kindly, 
For the last time 1 

Oh ! worse than death to say "good-bye" forever. 

To part from one, whom still to like were crime ; 
To loose the clinging hands, that throb with anguish, 

For the last time ! 

Feb. 27, 1884. 



St. Marv's Bells. 



THE PASSING BELL IN ST. MARY S CATHOLIC CHURCH, CHERRY ST. 
SEEMS TO SAY THESE WORDS. 



"Another gone to the other land," 

The bell in fair St. Mary's tolls ; 
A tiny boat from earth's lone strand. 

To where the vast "Eternal" rolls. 

A soul set free from earthly bonds, 

A heart released from earthly woe ; 

Gone from home-love, so dear and fond. 

While hearts must break and tears must flow. 

''Another gone to the other land," 

Is borne upon the morning air ; 
A soul gone forth at God's command, 

Our hearts in anguish whisper, "Where? 

Gone from our love, our hope, our clasp, 
Gone from the sunlight to the tomb ; 

Wildest imaginings cannot grasp. 

The depth, the stillness of its gloom. 

"Another gone to the other land," 

Dare we look up and follow where 

The Savior stands at God's right hand. 

And trust our loved ones now are there. 



—44— 

We will not look at Death, but Life, 

And trace their footsteps to the sky; 
Exulant in the blessed thought 

Of endless Immortality. 

But eyes will weep, and hearts will mourn, 

When at Death's stern and brief command, 
The words upon the breeze are borne, 
"Another gone to the other Land." 

April II, 1884. 
« ♦ « 

I saw one standing by the Throne of God, 
No kindred were around him even there ; 

The path through this world he alone had trod, 
Alone had borne its pleasure and its care. 

Alone and sorrowful his life had been, 

One heart beat for him, but he passed it by ; 

But all unknown to him, by all unseen, 

His hand was leading her to worlds on high. 

And on his brow was placed "The Crown of Life," 
And in its centre nestled one bright star ; 

He had not dreamed amid the world's dark strife. 
That rich reward was his, sure, though afar. 

And yet another stood before that Throne. 

Clasping her hands, in attitude of prayer ; 
She too had wandered through her life alone, 

Unknown, uncared for I wherefore came she there. 

Trembling she stood amid the glittering throng, 

Then raised her eyes and scarcely had she spoken. 

When from the hosts a loud triumphant song, 

Burst forth, the fear that closed her lips was broken. 

"Dark was my path," she said, "my way unknown, 
I lived a life of pain, yet feared to die ; 

No ray of light across my pathway shone, 

I wept in sorrow and none heard my cry. 



—45— 

'■^lliere is the hand that led my footsteps, where 
My Savior waited, thus to welcome me; 

Mine is the "Star" that gleams so brightly there, 
Be mine to thank him through Eternity," 

Aug. 23, 1884. 



To My Dead Boy: 

I am all alone, and the dark clouds lower 
Around my path when far from thee ; 
The summer's sun and spring's bright flower, 
The morning dawn and evening hour, 
Have now no charm to gladden me ! 

I am all alone \ for I miss the glee, 

The happy glee of my darling child ; 

His merry laugh, so wild and free. 

Warm from the heart of infancy, 
So pure and undefiled. 

But gladly still I hail the hours 

When I can feel I'm all alone; 

For then my heart goes far away 

To join thee in thy happy play, 

As in past days, too quickly flown. 

And still I see that fair smooth brow, 

As all loveliness he stood ; 
Oh ! there are none around me now, 
That e'er can be so dear as thou. 

So sweet, so beautiful, so good ! 

Yes 1 let me weep, for it were best 

To ease my strangely aching heart ; 

Thou comest loved one in my dreams, 

So real, so life-like, that it seems, 

It must be thou ! Why must we part. 



Perhaps thy onward path was dark. 

Shaded by grief, may be with sin :; 
And God who wanted thee above, 
And would not lose thee from His love. 

Sent Death's dark angel all unseen. 

To gather thee within the fold 

Of Jesus' lambs, so sheltered there., 
That I may know thee, when I see 
The face graven on my memory. 

Thy childish face, so fair. 

Sweet, pretty thing, 
With golden wing, 

And head so bright,. 
Why art thou dead 
In thy fairy bed. 

Thy nest so light ? 

Thy mother gone, 
Thou art alone, 

Poor little bird ; 
Her gentle song 
Shall mid the throng. 

No more be heard ! 

No soft, sweet breast. 
To guard thy rest. 

And keep thee warm - 
No loving eye, 
So tenderly, 

Guardiug from harm. 

Oh ! motherless 1 
Whose tenderness 

Shall shelter thee ? 
Sweet mother love, 
All else above. 

In infancy. 



—47— 

Though life's dark page, 
From youth to age, 

Mother I Sweet name 3 
;Tn childhood's tears, 
In manhood's years, 

Always the same. 

Of her bereft, 
Oh ! what is left 

To cheer our heart? 
When mother is gone, 
We're all alone, 

Till life depart. 



I dreamed a dream, oh ". long ago, 

When I was young and my heart was light 
It was a dream so full of love, 
A dream to lead my steps above. 

And make ray life's short journey bright, 

I dreamed an angel came to me 

And took my hand and led me on ; 

Far o'er a dark and dreary road, 

So dark,. I could not see who stood 
Beside me on that path so lone. 

There is a long and beauteous walk. 

In that fair town, they called it then 
"The Friar's Walk." In olden times 
Monks told their beads to midnight chimes, 
And list the vesper's strain. 

Beyond it rose a long low hill, 

Flat on the upper rim, 
A dark, brown hill, no farms were there. 
No bright green fields, no flowers so fair, 

But barren all and dim. 



-48- 

Clearer and brighter grew the sky, 

Behind the eastern point there came, 

A glorious cross, so fair to see, 

It flooded all in brillancy, 

It softly seemed to speak my name 

I turned to see whose hand I held, 

Oh ! could my heart have told it me. 
It was an angel, bright and fair, 
Who led me with such tender care. 
Me ! me alone, that sight to see. 

The Cross passed slowly o'er the hill, 

It sunk, and darkness reigned once more. 

And then such music struck my ear I 

Such music as I ne'er shall hear, 

Till Heaven is mine and life is o'er 1 

The angel turned and said to me, 

"To know its worth you are too young, 
That sight was sent for you alone, 
No eye hath seen it save your own, 

None heard the song the angels sung. 

"And God shall give in coming years, 

When life is dark and sorrow's come , 
A glad remembrance of this night. 
To cheer your heart, and by its light 

To guide your footseps safely Home." 

He gently pressed my hand in his 

And said, "Farewell, but not for aye, 

I will be near while you remain 

On earth, and we shall meet again, 
In a long, bright Eternity." 



—49— 

'11 Love Yoii Still. 



I have always loved you, 
Ere you knew such a being was on earth, 
Before one glance of kindness rested on me, 
I loved you then. 

When I heard people speak of all your goodness, 
And praise your deeds of love to poorer ones, 
Leading by your words to God and Heaven, 
I loved you then. 

When through the common courtesy of hfe, 
I bowed to you iu formal introduction, 
When hand met hand in friendship warm and glad, 
I loved you then. 

And when I found you lone and desolate, 
I wondered much that all the friends you know. 
Into your dwelling had not garnered beauty, 
I loved you then. 

Then, because I loved you, oh, so dearly, 
I fashioned fairy trifles that make home so bright. 
And sadly saw how little you approved them, 
I loved you then. 

And when false friends had come, and slyly told 
To each the other's faults, and parted us ; 
'E'en in that hour of sorrow, I only knew 
I loved you still 

And when in other years, the grave has claimed you, 
And friends stand sadly weeping by your side, 
I, too, will weep alone, and keenly know 
How well I loved you 



_5o— 

When the one bright day shall dawn at last, 
And myriad dead shall rally from the tomb, 
Though the width of this wide world should part us, 
I'll love thee still. 

I'll seek you in the city of our God, 
And with a higher and a purer love, 
Through all the ages of Eternity 
I'll love you still. 



